The Lifespan of a Man
by Demonsblade
Summary: "Arthur didn't need Merlin's obedience, or his pity. No, this would never, ever be happening again. Except that it did." A series of vignettes that follows Merlin and Arthur, from S1 - S4. Merlin/Arthur slash. Merthur. Also Merlin/Will, Arthur/Gwen
1. 5 Months after meeting Merlin

Arthur was getting quite used to these hunting trips with Merlin. Before Uther assigned Merlin to him as a manservant, Arthur rarely went on hunting trips without a posse of knights. His last manservant had been an older man with arthritis. A bully Arthur may be, but making an old man sleep on a cold forest floor, he just couldn't bring himself to do.

But with Merlin he was free to go alone whenever he liked. That was part of what marveled him about Merlin. He was at once intensely aware of Merlin's presence, and simultaneously felt like no one was around.

Arthur watched as Merlin rubbed salt into the hare meat for dinner. They hadn't had much luck with deer, but Arthur had managed a couple of hares for food.

The firelight played shadows on Merlin's face, making his cheekbones look even more prominent, and turning his eyes into little pools of ink. His face was scrunched up in a look of intense concentration.

Arthur chuckled quietly to himself. It seemed that even a simple task as cooking dinner was something Merlin put all of his effort into.

Merlin looked up then, looked straight at Arthur, and gave him a lopsided grin.

Arthur coughed and turned away. When Merlin went back to his food, spearing the meat onto branches to roast over the fire, Arthur went back to studying him.

The ground was a little cold where Arthur sat with his knees up in front of him. He leaned back on his hands and felt a little thrill shoot through him at the feeling of his fingers weaving through cool, damp grass blades.

He watched as Merlin slowly turned the branch over and over in his hand so that the food would be roasted evenly. Merlin scooted so that his back blocked the fire and Arthur could no longer see the food. He watched Merlin's back instead, the places where his ragged jacket stretched over his shoulder blades. Arthur knew that the jacket was made of rough wool but felt smooth where it was worn down after years of wear. He wondered who had run their hands over that jacket, who besides Merlin knew what the inside of it felt like.

"Done," Merlin said, standing up. He came over and sunk to the ground beside Arthur.

The fire was warming Arthur's face.

Merlin plucked a shank of meat off the branch and held the rest out to Arthur. Arthur took the branch.

"I didn't say you could have _all_ the rest," Merlin said. He was smiling that lopsided smile again.

Arthur punched him on the shoulder—twice —just for good measure. "We really need to have a talk about how you address me."

Merlin gave him a low bow. "With deference, I know," he said, rolling his eyes. He blew on his piece of meat, and bit into it. "Where are we going tomorrow?"

Arthur held the branch up to his face and bit off a chunk of meat. It was just a little too salty, and much too hot, but he chewed it anyway. He was ravenous.

He stared at the fire and tried to make a plan about tomorrow. But Merlin's eating was distracting. Merlin was a loud eater, making little appreciative sounds. And then—Merlin moaned.

Arthur glared at him, or tried at least. He hoped his face didn't betray the fact that his heart had suddenly sped up, or that he felt a little shiver run down his chest at the sound.

"Do you _mind_, Merlin?" Arthur tried for a scolding tone, but it came out panicked instead. "I'm trying to think here."

Merlin moaned that little moan again. "I'm sure it's hard work for you," he said, "thinking and all." Another moan, this one drawn out.

Blood was starting to pool in Arthur's groin. He watched Merlin eat, entranced by the movement of his lips, coated with oil from the meat.

"But I can't be expected to change everything," Merlin said. "Just for you."

"Of course not," Arthur agreed, before he knew what he was doing.

Merlin stopped chewing, and turned to face Arthur. There was a little piece of meat hanging to the corner of his lips.

Arthur reached out, plucked it off of Merlin's lips, and ate it.

Merlin blinked.

Arthur's heart was in his throat. He was glad he hadn't eaten much yet.

He put out his hand again, and ran his knuckles up Merlin's jaw. The skin there felt soft but with a little stubble and for some reason this made Arthur harden.

He leaned in, and Merlin didn't pull away—just stared at Arthur with that same glazed look. Merlin's nostrils were wide and he was breathing fast.

Arthur leaned closer. Merlin lifted his head, baring his neck. Arthur had a wild urge to taste that skin, so he did. He pressed his lips to Merlin's neck. Merlin's breath hitched, and Arthur, emboldened, continued to kiss at that skin.

When Arthur licked at it experimentally, Merlin let out that same moan—and oh how Arthur was hard. So Arthur bit at it. Something growled low in Merlin's throat. It vibrated Arthur's lips and his cock twitched.

But then Merlin was pushing him away, those large hands placed firmly on Arthur's shoulders. Merlin's eyes were looking away, guarded.

The weight of what Arthur had done hit him then, like a punch to the stomach. He stood up fast, and stalked off into the night.

-x-x-x-

Merlin lay awake that night, laid out on his bedroll, waiting for Arthur to return. It wasn't until the light of dawn was breaking the horizon that Merlin finally heard Arthur slither into his own bedroll somewhere across the campfire.

Merlin had never imagined something like this might happen with Arthur. Arthur seemed—well, he didn't seem like the kind of man who would put himself in such a vulnerable state. Because that's what it was to love a man, Merlin knew. With a girl it was different, but with a man both of you were on the same footing. You had to give more of yourself. And Arthur didn't seem like the type to do that willingly.

But he had. He had tried with Merlin, and that was something.

Will's words rang in Merlin's head. _I'll always be here, Merlin. When you come back. _Oh, how Merlin wished Will had never said those things, that they had never had those moments in Ealdor.

But that wasn't fair. Will was Merlin's closest friend, who knew him far better than Arthur ever would. Arthur wasn't worth this. Will loved Merlin, perhaps not as a lover should but definitely as a friend. And if they could have a few goes in the hay as well—well, that wasn't bad either.

-x-x-x-

Arthur lay down on his bedroll, thankful that Merlin was asleep. He didn't know what had possessed him to do those things over the campfire, but he knew now that Merlin didn't want it. The knowledge that Merlin had put up with Arthur's kissing for that long—probably because he didn't know how to say no to his master—it made something ugly bubble up in Arthur's stomach. He didn't want Merlin's obedience, or his pity.

No, this would never, ever be happening again.

Except that it did.


	2. Shortly thereafter

Samhain feast was always a good time. Uther always had a bit too much wine and told old war stories with large gestures that knocked over at least a few pitchers and ruined a dress or two. Morgana always left early, just when the knights started to get loud. And Arthur, for his part, always stumbled back to his rooms late—very late—and if he was lucky, there would be a willing servant girl waiting somewhere in the corridor.

But this year he had Merlin. During the feast he slipped Merlin wine under the table. It only felt right, getting rewarded on Samhain for having to attend to Arthur for hours at a feast he couldn't enjoy. So Arthur made sure that Merlin did enjoy this feast, even with that ridiculous hat.

At the end of the night, Merlin was as toasted as Arthur was. When Arthur left the feast, Merlin followed him and tried to wiggle his head under Arthur's armpit.

"What the hell are you doing?" Arthur said.

Merlin looked up from where he had managed to squeeze his head under Arthur's arm. The ceremonial hat was nowhere to be found. Merlin wiggled a little more and wound his arm around Arthur's waist.

"What does it look like I'm doing," Merlin said. "I'm making sure you get back to your rooms. And seeing as you're completely sloshed, I'm helping you walk." Merlin threw him a messy smile, and added, "Sire."

Arthur thought about protesting but Merlin's hand squeezed lightly on his waist so he yelped and let himself be supported.

Seeing as how they were both far gone, they stumbled more than they walked, but they finally made it back to Arthur's rooms.

Merlin guided Arthur through the door and toward the bed. Something in Arthur's belly felt hot, and his cock hardened a little.

-x-x-x-

Merlin knew he was drunk, but he also knew that Arthur was far drunker than he. He guided him toward the bed.

Arthur turned his head to breathe onto the side of Merlin's face, and Merlin felt his knees give a little.

"_Mer_lin." Arthur's voice was low, rumbly, his breath hot against Merlin's ear.

Merlin pushed Arthur toward the bed.

Arthur nearly fell into it, and pulled Merlin along with him. They landed in a heap in the bed. Merlin, panicky now, tried to get up, but Arthur's hands had him pinned down.

"Arthur," Merlin said in what he hoped was a warning tone. He hoped Arthur couldn't feel his erection. Arthur's weight on top of him—Merlin bit his lips.

Arthur raised his head and stared down at Merlin. When had he gotten on top? Merlin was effectively pinned. Arthur knee pressed up between Merlin's legs and if Merlin arched up into the touch, well, he couldn't really be blamed for that.

Arthur's hands slithered up under Merlin's shirt, his fingers finding a nipple and scratching at it a little. Merlin arched up again, more violently this time. His breathing was ragged now, but Arthur continued to stare at him, not closing the distance, not pulling away.

After what felt like an hour, Arthur rolled off and wedged himself under the blankets.

"Arthur?"

Merlin couldn't see Arthur's face in the darkness.

"If you want this you can stay," Arthur said. His voice was a little harsh, stern. "If you don't, you can leave now." And then a little softer—"I won't remember."

This was tempting. Oh, gods it was tempting. Merlin was half hard and very drunk, his thoughts muddled and flowing into one another. He wanted this, but this was Arthur. A little part of his head that sounded like Gaius told him this was a bad idea. Merlin really wished he had drank a little more, so that even that voice would egg him on. But he hadn't, and so it was with effort that he made himself get up off the bed and walk to the door.

"Good night, Arthur," he said.

Arthur didn't answer.

-x-x-x-

Merlin woke in comfort—too much comfort. The bed linens around him were soft and the mattress definitely wasn't made of straw.

He tried to sit up but he was being held down by a heavy arm across his waist. He turned his head slowly, afraid of what he may see.

What he saw nearly made him pass out.

Arthur, his hair spilling across his face, his cheeks pushed into a pout by the pillow, his lips slightly parted as he breathed slowly, still asleep.

Merlin's head throbbed something nasty behind his eyeballs. He felt woozy. The fact that he couldn't for the life of him remember how he got there made it that much worse.

Just as Merlin was planning his escape, Arthur's eyelids fluttered open. Merlin's heart stopped, and his stomach—already like water—dropped entirely out of his body.

"Morning," Merlin said. He tried to smile, but his head protested so he settled for a weak grin.

Arthur's face changed rapidly from confusion to suspicion. His eyes narrowed, and he had the look of a man who was trying to figure out how exactly to skin his kill.

"How about some breakfast?" Merlin asked. He tried to get up again, but Arthur's arm was still slung across his body, holding him there.

"What," Arthur breathed slowly, dangerously. "What are you—you better have a good reason for being here."

"I—" Merlin's mouth went dry instantly, and his fingertips were suddenly frigid. "I don't know."

"You're in my bed," Arthur said, quite unnecessarily. His eyes were slits in his face. "I don't remember inviting you."

"I don't remember either, sire."

Merlin held his breath. Arthur was still staring at him with that expression like he was about to shoot some particularly juicy animal.

At length, Arthur sighed. "Go fetch me breakfast," he said. He removed his arm from Merlin's waist and turned over onto his back. "You will speak of this to no one."

Merlin scrambled out of Arthur's bed. At least he was dressed—fully dressed in fact. Even his kerchief was still tied securely around his neck. The only thing he was missing was his boots, which he pulled on in a hurry before sprinting out of the prince's chambers.

-x-x-x-

Arthur wracked his brain, but no matter how many times he went over the events of the night before, he couldn't remember how Merlin had gotten into his bed. He was pretty sure the boy had left after—after Arthur had asked him to stay. That had been as clear a no as anyone could get.

Then how?

No matter. Whatever had happened, it seemed neither of them remembered. And that's how Arthur liked it. He was good at pretending that things never happened. For those he had previously taken to his bed—visiting nobles, a few knights here for tourneys—these had been the terms, that they don't speak of it, or act any differently toward each other during the day.

It was for the best, or at least that's what Arthur told himself. Besides, Merlin was a servant and a man. It's not like Arthur had any real feelings for him.


	3. Arthur goes to Ealdor

S1E10 - Arthur goes to Ealdor

It really was a nice little village. And contrary to what Merlin believed, Arthur knew he would be happy here, living a simple life. It made him peaceful just thinking about it. He didn't really understand why Merlin had left. If the situations had been reversed, he would have stayed. He was certain of it. Well, almost. He was fairly sure he wouldn't have left seeking glory or anything like that. Fairly.

He was trying really hard not to think about tomorrow, or the utter hopelessness of the situation. He knew that these people were looking to him for hope. The way that Merlin's mother had looked at him—a version of the same piercing look that Merlin sometimes gave him—stayed with him even when he closed his eyes.

The other thing that stayed with him was the face of the insolent boy that Merlin had hugged. Hugged, like they were great friends. Hugged, in the way that Arthur could never hug Merlin.

Arthur laid awake that first night, long past when Morgana and Gwen had gone to sleep. Their breathing was slow and even. He could tell that Merlin was still awake by the way that he kept shifting around.

Eventually, Merlin got up and carefully crept to the door. Arthur waited a few moments, then followed him.

The night air was cool against his skin, and in the utter lack of torches or candles, it was easy to stay out of Merlin's sight. The moon was just bright enough that he could see the path in between the houses. The whitewashed walls of the cottages shone an eery glow.

Merlin walked a few houses down from his mother's and after checking behind his shoulder—Arthur threw himself behind a wagon of hay—Merlin slipped inside. The faint glow of candlelight spilled out of the window, and Arthur crept up to it, his heart hammering in his throat.

He saw Merlin, silouhetted by the light. It was a messy little cottage, most of the things covered by a generous layer of dust.

"I thought you wouldn't come."

Arthur squinted, and could make out the shape of a young man getting up from the bed. The man walked over to Merlin, and Arthur's stomach knotted at the sight of his face. The boy that Merlin had hugged.

The boy reached up a hand and stroked the side of Merlin's face.

"I miss you, Merlin," the boy said, his voice hoarse.

Merlin captured the boy's hand in his own. Something twisted in Arthur's stomach.

"I'm here now," Merlin said.

The boy's expression turned angry. He pushed Merlin by the shoulder and into the wall.

Arthur put a hand on the door, ready to push it open and demand that the boy unhand Merlin. What right did he have to treat Merlin that way?

"I'm suprised you managed to slip away from your _master._"

Arthur's anger flared at the way the boy said the word. He wished he had taken his sword with him.

But then Merlin moved, and with grace Arthur hadn't suspected Merlin of possessing, Merlin switched their positions so that he was the one pressing the boy against the wall, his hands on either side of the boy's shoulders.

"He has nothing to do with this, Will," Merlin said. There was an edge to his voice, his words clipped. But then he said softly, "I didn't come to talk about him."

Merlin leaned close to the boy, and kissed him.

Arthur's hand dropped from the door. He felt his knees go wobbly. If he hadn't been a trained knight, he may have slid to the ground. His face was burning. He knew he should leave, but Merlin was moaning into Will's mouth and Arthur couldn't move his legs.

Merlin was again up against the wall, hooking a leg around Will's, unknotting Will's neckerchief with deft hands.

Arthur tore his eyes away from the window and crouched down. This was private, intimate. He had no right to be witnessing such a moment. It was supremely dishonorable. And if there was a sick feeling in his stomach, or an insistent pressure in his groin, well, those were all the more reasons to leave now.

"Does your precious Arthur know this about you?"

Arthur paused, the sound of his name acting like glue on his feet. He chanced a peek through the window.

Merlin was shirtless, the long column of his neck unmarred by his kerchief, his sinewy muscles standing out in relief under the candlelight. His head was thrown back in pleasure. Will was kneeling in front of Merlin, pressing kisses to his erection and unlacing his breeches.

Arthur ached to see him like this, Merlin all undone by pleasure, his lips red and parted. Arthur was so hard it made his head spin.

"I bet he can't make you feel the way I can," Will said. He reached inside Merlin's unlaced breeches and took the length of him in his mouth.

Merlin's hands wound themselves in Will's hair, and he bit his lips to keep in the moan that escaped anyway.

Will pulled his head away and licked up Merlin's torso as he stood up.

"Tell me, Merlin," Will said as he nipped at Merlin's neck. "Does he fuck you in his bed?"

The image of it swam up in Arthur's mind as if some part of him had been ready with it for just such a moment. Merlin, spread out on his bed, in his chambers, Arthur claiming him.

"Or," Will continued in between kisses, "is Arthur the one that likes being fucked?"

This image made Arthur even harder. His vision was starting to blur. It was torture not touching himself right there. He was sure just one squeeze would undo him.

Merlin shuddered against the wall. "Will," he said, his voice breathy and low—utterly unlike any voice Arthur had heard out of Merlin. "Fuck me."

"Are you sure it's me you want?" Will asked.

"_Now, _Will!"

And then Merlin was pushing Will back, toward the cot from which Will had gotten up earlier.

Arthur, with enormous effort, made himself walk away from the window. He staggered toward the wood. He was so hard it hurt to walk. Once he was sure he was out of sight, he leaned up against a tree. He sqeezed his eyes shut and imagined that scene again, imagined them together in Arthur's bed, Merlin pushing into him, inside him. And as soon as Arthur pressed his palm against himself, he came, biting his lips to keep the sound in.

-x-x-x-

Sated, Merlin lay pressed up against Will for a long time before either of them spoke.

"You like him, don't you?" Will asked quietly.

Merlin rolled over onto his side to face Will, who stared at the ceiling.

"He has a good heart, Will." Merlin put a hand on Will's chest, feeling the rapid breathing of his heart. "Will you train with us tomorrow?"

Will was silent, and when he finally spoke, his voice was jilted, as if the words being torn from him. "I don't think it's right," he said. "Getting their hopes up like this. We don't stand a chance."

"We might. Arthur—"

"Arthur's a prince, Merlin."

Something about the way Will said it made Merlin snatch his hand away from Will's chest. His palm felt empty and cold.

"You're just a servant to him. I've seen the way he treats you."

"I know he can be—difficult," Merlin said. He had been about to say prat, but for some reason he didn't want to belittle Arthur in front of Will. For some reason it felt important to defend him. "Fight with us, Will."

"I won't stand behind a man like Arthur."

From what he could see of Will's face in the candlelight, it was set in that stubborn way that meant he had made up his mind.

"Fine." Merlin sat up from the bed and threw his legs over the edge. "You're being an idiot."

"Go back to your precious Arthur." There was deep bitterness in Will's voice. "Go wag your tail like his loyal little puppy."

Merlin felt a flare of anger. He walked around and picked up his clothes where they were scattered over the floor and put them on.

"He'll never see you as anything more than a servant, Merlin."

Merlin walked to the door and pulled it shut behind him.


	4. Arthur in Ealdor, Part 2

**Arthur in Ealdor, Part 2**

Arthur waited outside the cottage while Merlin sat with Will. It made Arthur sick to realize they were waiting for Will to die. He had waited for plenty of men to die, but that didn't make it any better. And this time, it wasn't just Arthur who waited. It was Merlin. This would break Merlin. Of that, Arthur was sure.

After nearly two hours, Hunith came by and put her hand on Arthur's shoulder. Then she seemed to think better of it and snatched it back. Arthur missed the feeling.

"It's time," she said. She looked at the door of the cottage. "We've built a pyre."

Still Merlin had not come out. Arthur squared his shoulders and faced the door. All he had to do was push it open, but it felt wrong. What if Will was still alive? What if Merlin didn't want to see Arthur? What if—

No, he couldn't just let Merlin be by himself in there any longer.

Arthur took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. It creaked. Arthur flinched at the sound.

It took him a while to adjust to the darkness. When he could see, he noticed Will's body, still laying where they had left him. Merlin was sitting on a stool, his torso bent over the body, his head resting on Will's unmoving chest.

Arthur hesitated, hovering around the door. Merlin didn't move. Arthur cleared his throat. Still no movement.

"Merlin?" he tried.

He squinted hard into the darkness of Merlin's face, and thought he saw two deep streaks on his cheeks where tears had fallen—or were still falling.

"Merlin?"

He waited for a response, but when none came, Arthur stepped toward his prone manservant. He put a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

Merlin jumped and sat up, as if just realizing that Arthur was in the room. He wiped his eyes.

"Merlin," Arthur said. His voice was starting to crack. "They're ready."

Merlin looked at him, slowly, dazedly. Arthur's words weren't penetrating.

"Merlin, everything's been made ready for—for Will." Arthur coughed into his hand.

Merlin didn't move, just continued to sit there, though now his gaze was fixed on Will's glassy eyes, still open.

Arthur reached down and closed Will's eyes, and immediatley Merlin sprang into action, swatting Arthur's hand away and bending over Will's body protectively.

"Merlin!"

"Get away from him!" Merlin spat.

The venom in his voice made Arthur take a step back in suprise. Merlin had never spoken to him like that.

Merlin stroked Will's face tenderly, fresh tears running down his face.

"Merlin," Arthur tried, much gentler this time. "We—everything's ready. We have to let him go."

Merlin's body heaved great big sobs as he cradled Will's face to his chest.

Arthur was caught between removing himself from the room immediately and staying to cradle Merlin to _his _chest. He settled for putting a hand on Merlin's shoulder and rubbing circles into the skin with his thumb.

After a little while, Merlin's body calmed, though he still held Will to him. Arthur waited until Merlin wiped his eyes, and then slowly turned toward the door.

"I'll be outside," Arthur said, "whenever you're ready."

-x-x-x-

The ride back to Camelot was quiet. Merlin himself was morose, for good reason. But that didn't make it any easier to bear.

The first night they camped, Merlin lit the fire and then wiggled himself into his bedroll, not taking dinner and not talking to anyone.

The second night, Merlin sat near the fire, staring into it, long after Gwen and Morgana went to bed. Arthur sat across from him, partly wishing he could blend into the night so that Merlin would feel like he was alone. He couldn't bring himself to go to bed yet, not with Merlin so damn sad.

Arthur cleared his throat, and Merlin jumped. Arthur opened his mouth—

"Save your words," Merlin said.

Arthur clamped his mouth shut.

"I'm fine," Merlin said. He didn't meet Arthur eyes, just continued to look into the fire.

"You're not fine, Merlin. You're mourning."

"So?" Merlin's voice had an edge to it that Arthur wasn't used to hearing.

"So nothing." Arthur schooled his own voice to be neutral, caring almost. "Time is all you need."

Merlin shook his head and looked toward the darkness of the trees. "You don't understand."

"I do."

Merlin snorted. And try as he might, Arthur couldn't keep down the little flare of anger in his stomach.

"I do, Merlin. I—I know what it's like to lose someone close to you."

Merlin looked at him properly for the first time in days, a terrifyingly penetrating stare.

"I know what—" Arthur started before realizing he didn't have the words to finish. He tried again. "I know you were—I know how much he meant to you."

Merlin let out a bitter chuckle. "You don't know."

"I _know_, Merlin."

Merlin looked at him again, an assessing look like Merlin was weighing Arthur's soul. Arthur gulped and waited for his judgement. Merlin nodded, as if not quite believing his ears, so Arthur continued.

"He was a squire," Arthur said. "Many years ago when I was much younger." He didn't know why he was telling Merlin this. No one but Morgana knew about this. But that look Merlin was giving him was pulling the words out of him in a whispered rush. "He was—he and I—we were close. He was my—my Will."

Merlin swallowed. Arthur couldn't look away from those eyes.

Arthur thought of the boy he had known a long time ago, the boy who would have been a noble knight, if a little insolent. He laughed despite himself.

"He was utter rubbish at fighting," Arthur said. "Bollocks with a sword. But he had a good heart."

"What happened?" Merlin asked. He seemed entranced by the story, that disbelieving look still pasted on his face.

Arthur's heart clenched painfully. "My father found out. About us. He had him sent away." Arthur finally looked away from Merlin's gaze and ran his hands over his face, rubbing the sadness out of it. Merlin was the one in mourning, not Arthur.

"Did you see him again?" Merlin asked.

Arthur sighed and shook his head. "On his way back to his father's castle, he was ambushed by bandits." Arthur looked up into Merlin's watery eyes. "He died fighting."

They were both silent for a long time, eyes locked over the dying fire. Arthur was breathing hard, like he had run circles around the trees. Merlin's eyes shown with everything he was holding back.

Eventually they both laid out their bedding next to each other and slid inside. Arthur stared up at the inky sky, at the sliver of a moon, the tree canopy swaying in the breeze above them.

A cold, tentative closed around his own.

"What was his name?" Merlin asked in a whisper.

Arthur threaded his hands through Merlin's.

"His name was Tristan."

And Arthur drifted asleep like that, with Merlin's hand in his, not caring right now how they would explain it when they woke up.


	5. Arthur and the Unicorn

**Arthur and the Unicorn**

It happened after the hunt for the unicorn. Merlin was especially quiet when he brought up Arthur's dinner that night. Arthur sipped his stew and watched him, the stiff line of Merlin's back as he tended to the fire, his jaw set and stubborn as he folded Arthur's laundered clothes.

Merlin was prone to these moods after Will's passing. It had been nearly four months, and Arthur had lulled himself into thinking that perhaps Merlin was getting past his mourning. But apparently he had been wrong.

Arthur left the stew to go stand behind Merlin as he folded clothes. Merlin's arms slowed with each step that Arthur took, and when he was right behind him, Merlin stopped altogether, the tunic drifting to the bed uselessly.

Merlin's back was straight, his body perfectly still as Arthur reached out and touched his neck gently. Merlin's skin was warm and Arthur felt a jolt up his arm.

"Merlin?" he whispered.

For a while they just stood there, Arthur's hand on Merlin's neck, Merlin not facing him. And then Merlin shrugged and Arthur's hand fell limp at his side.

It was a few more moments before Merlin spoke.

"You shouldn't have killed that unicorn."

Arthur's voice rose despite his best efforts. "I was _hunting_!"

Honestly, just when he thought he knew Merlin—why the hell did his servant care about sodding magical creatures, anyway?

Arthur felt that anger again—this irrational anger he sometimes had toward Merlin. It flared up and clouded his vision until all he wanted to do was lash out and wipe that stupid look off Merlin's face.

But before Arthur could tell him to leave, Merlin turned on his heel and walked out. Arthur stared at the folded laundry sitting at the foot of his bed, that anger eating away inside him until all he could do was to put the clothes away in his wardrobe and finish his stew, chewing the meat into unnecessarily small pieces.

-x-x-x-

After Arthur passes Anhora's tests:

Fine, so maybe Merlin had been right about the unicorn. But Arthur had a hard time just saying that, so he settled for clamping his mouth shut and letting Merlin prattle on and on about the beauty of the creature as he readied Arthur's bath.

Arthur, for his part, was just glad Merlin was back to his old self, not ignoring Arthur and not going into any of his moods. Arthur leaned back in his chair and watched Merlin heat the water in the fireplace.

"I can't believe it let us get that close," Merlin was saying, pouring heated water into the bath and refilling the large kettle with water from a bucket.

They had both steered carefully away from the subject of Anhora's last test and Arthur's decision with the goblets. Arthur was perfectly fine with that.

"Arthur? Are you listening?"

"What?" Arthur sat a little straighter in his chair. "I'm listening."

"I was saying it was really very noble of you to bring back the horn to the forest."

"Oh—yes." The room was suddenly too hot, and Arthur was too big for his skin. Merlin was smiling at him, grinning really, and it made Arthur's throat dry. "I—yes, it was a good thing."

Merlin grinned wider, and attempted to take the kettle off the fire.

"OW!" Merlin dropped the kettle, and then danced out of the way of the boiling water snaking all over the floor.

Arthur was at his side in an instant, pulling Merlin away. Merlin was clutching his hand to his chest, his face scrunched up in pain.

"Let me see that," Arthur said, and to his surprise, Merlin held out his hand without protest. Arthur took it gingerly. It was very, very red, but not too bad off.

Arthur fetched a pail of unheated water and set it on the table. He took Merlin's hand again and sunk it gently under the cool water.

Merlin's face was pained. Without thinking, Arthur reached up a hand and rubbed the back of Merlin's neck.

Merlin's eyes snapped up.

Arthur stopped rubbing. He had that feeling again, like he couldn't fit into his own skin, like he was going to expand and expand and become the air.

Merlin had this look in his eyes, this intense look that Arthur wasn't used to seeing, like Arthur was the only person in the world at that moment.

And then Merlin was moving forward, pressing Arthur into the table and kissing him open-mouthed and hungry like he couldn't get enough. Arthur only had a few moments to think _what the hell are we doing _and _this is wrong _until he gave in and kissed Merlin back, pushing his fingers through Merlin's hair.

Arthur was drunk on Merlin, his head light and his hands clumsy as they kissed again and again for he didn't know how long. At some point Merlin guided him toward the bed, pushed him down into it and climbed over him, never breaking their kiss. Arthur's hands didn't know where to go, so he settled for rubbing them all up and down Merlin's side.

"Merlin," he breathed once Merlin broke the kiss, pressing kisses down Arthur's jaw, onto his neck.

Arthur's body was fire, all feeling and too much too much but he wouldn't give it up for the world. Merlin sucked a spot on Arthur's neck and Arthur arched up, up, writhed into Merlin's body above, craving just more touch and more Merlin. He was very hard, and so was Merlin. He could feel Merlin's erection on his thigh and that made him all the more harder.

He pulled at Merlin's shirt, because suddenly it wasn't enough and he wanted to feel Merlin's skin on his, the warmth of it against him. And then it was there, and he didn't remember taking his shirt off but that was gone, too, and Merlin was pulling Arthur on top.

Arthur kissed feverishly down Merlin's body, mumbling nonsense and basking in the fact that Merlin was moaning those little moans for him.

"Merlin," he kept saying over the over. "Merlin Merlin MerlinMerlinMerlin."

It should've been embarrassing, but not when Merlin bit his lips like that and hooked his legs around Arthur like that and flipped them over like that and ground down into Arthur's hips like that and—

And it became very, very important to take off their breeches, at anything keeping them from skin. Arthur didn't know how he managed, only that Merlin's mouth was taking him in—all of him—and the sight was enough to make Arthur come, shivering and shaking.

But Merlin didn't let him go, just kept his mouth around Arthur, kneading at his balls slowly until Arthur was hard again. Arthur wound his hands into Merlin's thick hair and pushed up.

It wasn't enough. He needed more, something of Merlin. But he had only opened his mouth when Merlin lifted Arthur's legs and spread them. Merlin's eyes were closed. Arthur only then realized what Merlin was about to do but it was too late and there was a warmth at his entrance and a pressure and then Merlin was inside and Arthur thought he would burst.

"Breathe, Arthur."

And Merlin's voice was so low, so commanding that Arthur relaxed, and Merlin was slick and moving inside him—and Merlin was _inside _him. It was too much but Arthur wanted more and more and more.

"Harder," he heard himself say.

Merlin growled and pushed deep inside him. Arthur hooked his legs around Merlin's waist and pulled him deeper harder, until they were both shivering—and then Arthur was too full too full and Merlin hit something in him that made him see stars behind his eyes. Merlin was coming inside him and the thought of it brought Arthur over the edge and they both shook into their orgasms and collapsed into a tangled heap.


End file.
